The Tenth
by TheJediBakerGirl
Summary: When 1 tells of a mysterious Tenth, 9 decides to go after it. But what he finds along the way is not what he expected to find. He finds that gender devices, love prevails, to stay outspoken, that even leaders lie, and that even death can tear you apart.
1. I'm Saying Goodbye Now

_"They were told, they believed, that the Tenth was a man. A strong, powerful, fearless man who was created by the scientist just before he died; he left the Tenth alone, to figure out the world, to fight, to battle on his own. The other 9 had never given up hope on the Tenth being real, being a true legend, a...."_

"Stop, just stop!" 7 exclaimed, getting up from her seat on the floor. 1 looked at her with shock and anger, his narrowed eyes narrowing into small slits of black. "What seems to be the problem _this time_, 7?" he asked, standing up. "This sounds just like a legend. I could think of three things to contradict right now from that story." 1 smiled smugly, meanly. "Go right ahead then."  
"First: how do we know that the Tenth is still alive? What if he's dead? What if he died the minute he walked into the abyss alone, taken by The Seamstress then handed off to the BRAIN?

Second: What if the Tenth is just a myth? A real, true, simple myth that you conducted to give us false hope. That's not fair for any of us, and if the Tenth is dead, his spirit.

And third: What is _he_ is really a _she_? The Tenth is a girl, you ever think of that?"

1 scoffed loudly, making 3 and 4 pop out from behind a small faded piece of cloth which served as their room divider, their eyes wide with curiosity and excitement. "A woman. That's impossible! A woman could never be the Tenth when it comes to fighting, when it come to saving, when it comes to being _the Tenth_," he said, sneering. 7 crossed her white-clothed arms, a scowl spreading across her face. "Lies." She said it quietly, under her breath, as 9 came in from 3 and 4's area. He immediately caught 7's upset aura, then walked quickly over to her. "What happened?" he asked, knowing that 1 was the cause off the back. "Lies, that's what," she replied, looking at him with a hurt expression. "She thinks the Tenth is a woman," 1 said, walking over to the two of them, his staff clicking over and over against the wood cathedral flooring. 9 was about to ask who the Tenth was, but 7 stopped him by saying firmly, "Don't ask who _she_ is." She emphasized the word 'she', making 1 glare meanly at her. She shrugged lightly. "Not me that _lies_ to everyone," she said sweetly, turning then walking off.

"Does anyone know where this... _Tenth_ is?" 9 asked curiously, 1 shot a look at him and laughed once. it was harsh, rude, uncalled for. "Of course!" 1 replied, turning back around and walking back to his throne. "3 and 4 more then likely know." 9 turned back around thinking _'Should I ask them for more answers?'_ to himself, then he walked toward the twins area, which filled with books and papers. "3 and 4. I need to ask you two something," he said, the two twins popping their heads out from behind a book. their eyes clicked repeatedly, making 9 smile a little, then they skipped to him from behind the book. They looked at him unexpectedly, waiting for what they were to eager to look for. "Do you two have anything on the Tenth?" The girls looked at each other, their eyes clicking first slowly, them repeatedly with flashes of small lights back and forth, then 3 turned to a closed book with an old blue cover, opened it quickly, pages ruffling lightly in the wind it picked up.

It looked everything like them, but also nothing like them. the Tenth was tan-clothed, just like him, it had the same eyes, wide and adorable. It had a long red stitch down it's cheek, it seemed that The Seamstress really had gotten to it. Right above in black fancy writing, which the twins labeled 'Frenchie', was 'The Tenth.' Tenth wasn't their scientists design, he could tell by that. But, for some reason, 9 couldn't see where the number 10 was marked, even though the book had full-scale drawings of the Tenth, front and back, there was no sign that he or she was the Tenth. "Is this the Tenth?" he asked, pointing to it. 3 and 4 looked at each other, then at him and nodded. "Got it," he said, walking out, the twin girls watching him quietly walk out.

He continued past 5 and 2, who sat together, talking quietly. 9 grabbed his infamous staff, the one with a light bulb on the top; he didn't stop walking when he grabbed it. "9?" 5 asked, watching him walk out, a hint of anxious in his voice. He stood and followed his friend out quickly. "Where are you going, 9?" he asked, walking next to him. 9 didn't look at him, but answered firmly, "I'm going to find the Tenth." That stopped 5 in his tracks, completely, with wide eyes. "The _Tenth_?!" he asked, fear cracking his voice. "You- You _can't_! The Tenth has been lost since 1 was first created!" 5 ran back to 9's side quickly, trying to not sound scared, even thought is really was. "Maybe he or she can help us understand what happened here," 9 explained, walking with his staff into the open, which made a anxious 5 even more anxious then he had started off as. They were quiet for a moment or two until they heard 7 call out from the observatory tower "Hey!" loudly, then she jumped from the high tower down to the two boys. "Where you going?" she asked, smiling, out-of-breath. "9 is going mad, 7. Talk to him," 5 said, lightly pushing 9 forward, he made the two of them bump into each other lightly. 9 smiled, 7 smiled wider. "So you're going crazy, I hear," she said, fighting the urge to giggle. "I'm going to look for the Tenth," he said firmly, still smiling. That's when 7 immediately lost her smile, pushed herself away from 9, who, unbeknown to everyone she had the biggest crush on, and looked at him with fearing eyes. "You're going after a stichpunk who might not even be _alive_?" she asked skeptically. "I don't know, but maybe whoever it is can help. Help us get the world back to normal." 7 thought that 9 had finally lost it. After all, she had thought that he lost it a time or two before, but this felt official. He was going after an imaginary stichpunk. "I'm sorry, 7," 9 said softly, touching her arm. "I have to do this. For myself. For every one of us." She looked into his eyes, the hollow blackness somehow comforting to her.

"I want in," she said as the two boys started to walk. 9 sprang back. "No," he said, trying to hide the fear in his voice, she was going to put up a fight; it was just like her to do so. "Why? Because I'm a _girl_?" she asked, putting her hands on her hips. _'Here we go,'_ 9 thought to himself, wanting to laugh. "It's because _I am_ a girl, isn't it? Well, I'll have you know-" She was stopped by 9 putting his free hand up. "You can come," he said quickly, abruptly. "My warrior stickpunk." 7 giggled, smiling. _'Damn,'_ she thought, covering her mouth. _'Should _not_ have done that.'_ 9 laughed a little, he thought it was cute. "What about 1 and the others?" 7 asked, uncovering her mouth. "They can follow along, I'm not going to sit around and wait for them," 9 replied, turning as 7 got to his side and fell into step with the two boys. "I want you all to know," 7 said firmly, cutely, like a girl, "I don't want to be saved." 5 looked over at her and smiled. "Got it," he said, putting hand up. 9 looked at her and nodded. "No saving for 7. Got it."


	2. Leaving You Behind

The sun was just rising in the sky as 9, 7, and 5 walked through the open abyss of the world. It was quiet, as it had been every day, with the sometimes faint clicks and scrapes of metal, which would occasional scare 5. There was silence between the three stitchpunks, an awkward and engulfing silence, which was for the better, somewhat. It was easier for 9 to keep out for the machines. The three walked passed a small body, unknown to them it was once a little girl, 7 looked back at the small body, sprawled, lifeless, pale yellow with blue tinted fingertips, she turned her head back and shut her eyes tight. "This is so sad," she said quietly, only enough for her to hear, when she looked up at 9, he wasn't paying attention, but looking around at the garbage heaps, looking up in the sky, looking forward. 9 finally looked down at her, concern filtering within the black eyes of his. "What's wrong?" he asked softly, touching her arm with his free hand. "Did you notice," she started, looking at the ground, trying to carefully word the situation out, "that this world we're in, didn't just have us and the scientist?" She thought it came out well, but when she looked back up at 9, he had a blank expression set across his face. She sighed, shook her head, the looked back down.

"Yes," he replied after a long silence, 7's head shot back up. He looked down at the smaller but utterly adorable stitchpunk which he had a crush on; he smiled a little. "I do get that. There were people here on the planet Earth. Human, flesh and blood, real life people. And that's one of the reasons why I want to find the Tenth. Because maybe he or she can figure out how this-" he gestured toward all of :all happened." 7 smiled. She was glad she was falling for a stichpunk like him. He was sweet, he had an open mind when it came to the myths and legends, he didn't let anyone stop him. She put her head back down, still smiling slightly.

There was a faint _'caw caw! caw caw!'_ in the distance. Everyone stopped. "Did anyone else...?" 5 trailed off, nervous again. The cawing came back, closer this time. "That's not a good sign," 7 said quietly, touching the bird skull helmet which sat upon her head. There it was again, louder. It was coming closer. 9 stood guarded, tense. "We should've brought 8 with us," 5 said quietly, hearing a caw one time, then it was completely silent. After a split second, 9 said quiet enough for the other two to hear, "Run." And they were off, sprinting across the barren wasteland, out in the open, toward more brown bleakness, with the silence following them all eerily. They kept running, they all kept pace with each other, until 9 saw something just on the horizon, a small building from the looks of it. "Stop!" he commanded, the two other stitchpunks stopped at his side. He pointed the small light bulb rod at the building. "There." The two others looked, then 5's face slowly creased with a smile. "We found safety," he said, mainly to himself. "You did it, 9!" 7 said with a huge grin spreading across her face; she took her hands and set them upon his arm. There was a slight breeze which drenched their bodies. 9 turned around to see a bird-like killer robot, his claws out, coming straight for 7. "Move!" he shouted, pushing 7 and 5 out of the way with one swift arm movement. 9 dodged the thing before it jabbed it claws right into the ground.

"RUN!" 9 shouted, sprinting past the lodged-claws-in-the-ground bird, who was cawing madly, trying to get out and kill the three stitchpunks. 7 and 5 immediately started running toward the small building they had seen only a moment ago on the horizon, 9 behind them. The machine finally got it's claws out of the ground, flapped once or twice to get itself back into the air, then dove for the three. It's left spear caught against 7's arm, pulling at her; the spear tore through her arm like paper. She fell to the ground, holding her arm tightly. "7!" 9 shouted, turning back to look at her. 5 grabbed his arm. "No. No! She can handle herself. She knows what she's doing," he explained, wrapping his fingers around the arm and pulled harder and harder, until his feet finally wanted to move, after a few moments of staring at the girl he could loose, he loves that girl. She took the hand off of her torn arm, took it to her head, and slid the bird skull helmet which she had on her head, down to her face. _'She's going to be all right,'_ he promised himself. It was, after _all_, 7. The girl who had lived on her own for the longest time. He did find her out in the open, fighting off the machines which had populated the world after they all killed off the humans, by herself. 7 looked through the open eye sockets of the skull, the eyes she had on screamed to go, to get away from her and the bird, as fast and as far as possible. 9 picked up his feet and ran next to 5, until the brown bleakness turned into dull, almost black-and-white, colors. 9 looked up at the clouds, they were black, pitch black, the sun just barely visible. He looked at 5, who had stopped. His eyes were wide. "What 5?" 9 asked, following his eyes to see what his friend was seeing.

There, laying sprawled against the grayish-brown floor, with torn arms, a streak of red thread running from the corner of the right, wide black eye, one hand was torn off it's wrist, only hanging from what looked like a thread like a tear, the other off it's body completely, near it's foot, which was torn, was a stitchpunk body, it's insides lay scattered about it's body, it's eyes were hollow, black, 5 covered his mouth. 9 looked at it's hands. One hand the number 1 on it, the other had a 0 on the palms of the metal crested hands. "It's the Tenth," he gasped. He fell to his knees next to the body, 5 standing behind him, shock filtering within his eyes.


	3. So Quiet, So Dark, So Unreal

"He's... He's..." 9 couldn't even speak. 5 knelt down beside him in the grayish brown dirt; he touched his friend's arm lightly. "He's gone," 9 finally said, putting his head in his hands. IT was so silent, it was eerie. 5 looked down at the torn apart body, he touched the stitchpunk cloth body, it was limp, cold, rough against his hand. There was a small white cloth, which as he looked closer, was a paper, in one of the close fisted hands which was torn off of the body. "9," 5 said, shaking him lightly by his arm. 9 looked up from his hands to look at 5, who just pointed at the close fisted hand with the paper in it. 9's eyes widened a bit. "What is-" He stopped; it was better for him to find out himself. So he got himself off his knees, walked over to the hand, and slowly pried it open. It was swift, it opened quick and easy. He saw that it was indeed a paper, crumpled up into a ball, it bleached an ugly yellow where it had been exposed to sun and wasn't covered by the closed fingers that were only moments ago wrapped around it. 9 un-crumpled the paper slowly, being careful not to rip the all ready delicate paper. It was a letter, and, even he didn't figure it out, that it was addressed to him. He read it aloud to 5, who stood up next to him.

_9,  
This is my letter, a personal one from The Tenth. There are one of two possibilities of my way of life right now, as you read this. One: I'm laying in front of you, sprawled, ripped to shreds, dead. Or two: I'm standing right in front of you with a smug smile on my face and my arms crossed. You need to understand something, right now:_

_This _didn't_ happen on purpose._

_The machines took over because of the BRAIN. And the chandler. Those were the two main reasons. It wasn't your creator's or my owns fault, so don't blame him for the machines going all death-to-humans on us. IT was all accidental, even the chandler didn't plan this. I hope 1 through 8 came with you, or even if just one of the stitchpunks came, I would be all right. Or if you're alone. You've always been one of those stitchpunks to go solo and not care. I want you to do something for me, okay 9?  
I want you to go into the factory. There's something I left for you in there that you'll need, I know you will. I've hidden it from the machines for a while now, I've never let the thing out of my site. You need it more then I do (if I'm dead right now, of course. There's also the fact if I'm alive. You'll need me, so don't argue with me when it comes to taking me with you. I won't take the arguing, I'll walk away. I'll tell you right now if you find me alive; I'm very outspoken. I won't take any of the stitchpunks crap. If 1's with you, tell him I said that. Or make him read this, either one and I'm good. I really hope you got this before they did._

_10._

_P.S.  
Keep this letter! Not just as a memory of me, but keep it because it's proof that you found me, dead or alive._

9 stopped, processing what the Tenth had just told him. "We need to go in," 9 said, his look was more confident then how he felt.  
"Are you sure?" 5 replied, a little shaken up by the decapitated stitckpunk body and the errily beautiful letter that the Tenth had left them. "Yes, I'm sure," 9 lied. He really didn't know what to do, weather to go back to the comfort and somewhat safty of the cathidral or go into the factory, and possibly look into the red eyes of death. 9 slowly, numbly, moved himself forward,5, still grasping onto his arm, followed suit. The doorfram was all that was left of the entrance; even it was rotting from the inside out.  
It was pitch black inside, only lit by the small holes within the roof which had deterorated. "9..." 5 started, his voice shaky and a bit scared. 9 shushed him. They both stopped about 10 steps from the door. "Stay here, okay?" 9 said, it was more of a command then a question. 5 slowly but hesitantly let go of his friend and somewhat of a protector's arm. "O-okay," he replied, shaking. 9 slowly walked off without his friend deeper into the dark, musty factory.

"Hello?" he called into the darkness. No answer other then the slight wind. He waited for the wind to stop, then more silence enveloped him. "Hello?" he called out again, louder, passing by a staircase which lead to an upper level of the factory, the underbelly of it was nothing but pure darkness. He looked up past the stairs, to see a stitchpunk skin, standing, it's eyes weren't wide and hollow and black like the skin was outside. It was a real, live, stitchpunk.

"Hello?" 9 called out, backing up from the upper level and the staircase, his eyes were still locked on the stitchpunk skin.

"Hello there," it replied, it's mouth wasn't visible, but he knew it was the skin. He jumped. It wasn't what he expected the voice to sound like; 1 had told him it was a man that was the Tenth.  
It sounded like 1 was_ wrong_.


	4. All The Stories Were Lies

The stitchpunk pulled itself from the shadows. It made 9 more amazed then he all ready was when he saw the stitchpunk. He or she looked just like the torn apart body outside- right now to the dark red stitch running from the end of it's eye down to the crease of it's shoulder. It had wide black eyes, it's small-cut-mouth corners were tilted up in the slightest of a smile. It was leaning against the railing of the upper level, it's arms crossed loosely over each other. "You're- You're-" 9 couldn't even pull out the right words to describe who he was.

The Tenth. And he was_ alive_.

It moved quickly after he silenced himself. It went from the railing to the stairs, hopped onto the rail of the case, then quickly slid down the thing with almost wind-breaking speed; when it hit the bottom, the stitchpunk stumbled a bit, but he stood straight and confident, like he had done this before. "You're the Tenth!" 9 finally said, rushing over to the standing stitchpunk. He showed 9 his palm. One had a 1 etched into it, the other had a 0. 9 nodded a little. "You can't be the Tenth though!" 9 said as the Tenth turned and started walking up the stairs. He spun around as his foot landed square in the middle of the staircase. "Why can't I be?" the voice lightened, like it was pretending to be deep and muscular. "Because..." he trailed off, looking at the Tenth straight into the blackness of it's eyes. He wasn't really a he.

He was really a _she_.

"You're a girl!" 9 stumbled backward, almost slipping on the thick dust. The Tenth fully turned then sighed dramatically; like she had heard that was was a guy before. "Why is it that everytime someone goes on a stitchpunk hunt for me, they all expect me to be a guy?" she asked, her voice flitting around the room like a un-dead butterfly. The Tenth groaned loudly, turned her back on 9 once more, then walked slowly up the stairs. When she didn't hear him following, she called out "Are you coming or not?" which made 9 slowly follow behind her.

When the two got to the top level, he realized that there were papers. Drawings and sketches of her, of the machines which were oh- to-familiar to 9, and when he looked down at 10's hands, he realized her fingers were darkened almost completely black, from ink. She was an artist, just like 6, who was back in the church. Then he suddenly remembered 1 through 8, how he left them all without a single word, only having 7 and 5 come with him, the only stitchpunks who still believed in him. Then he remembered 7. Was she doing all right? Had she been killed? Was he ever going to see the stitchpunk who made him feel closer to human then anyone or anything could make him feel? He shook off the thought of 7 being dead. He looked around to notice that the papers were bleached a yellow, there were claw marks on the wooden walls, thick scrapes that were jagged and deep against the thin wood, it didn't look like it was a machine's claw marks, or it would've done a lot more damage.

"Yeah. I guess this is it." 10 turned once, her arms outstretched, a slight smile on her face. "Welcome home, 9." 9 continued to gawk at the photos, the papers, the diagrams, then he blurted out "How were you created?" 10 dropped her arms and looked at him. "I mean," 9 chose the words carefully, "was your creator my creator also?" 10 smiled wider and shook her head no. "Actually, my scientist and your scientist were best friends, that's one of the reason why I was created," she explained, bending down and digging through the papers on the floor; she pulled out a small photograph. It was a black and white photo, of the stitchpunk and her creator. The Tenth's scientist was a woman. She had long, about waist-length hair, with a bright smile, no crooked teeth. She had the standing Tenth in her right hand, held up, they were both smiling. The Tenth had a hand up, like a wave she was giving that had been caught in time. "I knew my scientist," she aid before 9 could ask. "She died only minutes after I was created. I guess loosing your soul is pretty suckish when you realize you can't live anymore."

9 couldn't believe it. She met her scientist! He smiled a little. "I want to ask you a question," 9 said as 10 put the picture back into the pile of papers and scraps. "Go ahead," she replied, walking over to a pile of ripped papers and plopped herself down on it. She waved her hand for him to go on. "How did you know all that stuff about me? I mean, the fact that I was a soloist? And I was 9? How did you know I would come in the first place?" 10's smile dropped, she looked utterly confused. "You want to know the story?" she asked, getting herself back up and walking over to him. He nodded as they came face-to-face. She took her hands in his, turning the palms up, just as she did with her's.

I'll try," she said more to herself then to 9. She looked up at him; she pulled her hands away from his, keeping both hand pairs palms up.


	5. Should've Said No

"Well, I guess we'll start from the beginning." 10 sat with 9 on the floor of the upper level of the factory; it was quiet in the small building other then 10 talking. 9 sat back and waiting for the stitchpunk to start.

"I was created by a scientist named Florida, who was your scientist's best and closest friend. They pretty much shared a mind, they were so close. Brother and sister kind of thing." 10 laughed a little. "Anyways, your scientist was talking about creating little puppet people by releasing his soul and pretty much stuffing it into another body. My scientist, Florida, she thought it was crazy and it couldn't be done. So when your scientist did it, mine did also." "They tried over and over again for days on a bunch stitchpunk bodies, but none would take the soul, or not right at least." 10 shuttered. "What would happen if they didn't go right?" 9 asked. He saw 10 take her finger and run it against her neck, as if slicing the head off. "Oh." 9 felt a shudder erupt inside him. "Continue." "Well, after tries and tries with my scientist, she finally got... Well, she got me." 10 smiles and put her arms out. "When I was created, she didn't fully put her soul inside of me. She only got small bits on her into me. That's how this picture-" She pulled the small black-and-white photo back to her side of her and Florida- "came to actually exist." 9 nodded, understanding. "And I guess she later figured out a way to fully put herself into me, and she did. Right after she fully put herself inside of me, she dropped dead right before I woke up again." She paused, then finished with, "I guess that's my story." 9's mind was buzzing with questions for The Tenth. Before he could answer, a voice rang through the building like a church bell in mid-morning, when there was no sound anywhere.

"7?" 9 remembered that voice. He quickly jumped up and sped over to the staircase top. "Who's 7?" 10 asked lightly, smiling as she got up and walked over to him. She peeked over his shoulder. "She your girlfriend?" she asked, on the brink of giggling. 9 looked at her, a smile mixing with a scowl, then quickly turned his head back to the staircase. "No, she's not my girlfriend," he replied flatly as he started to walk down the steps. "I wouldn't do that." 9 looked up at 10, who stood with her arms crossed against her chest. "Those boards will smash from right under you. I'd take the rail." 9 had a blank look on his face as 10 lightly sprung herself onto the handrail and pushed herself forward, making her slide down quickly; a tan blur against the black. 9 slowly did the same as 10, the moment he got to the end, he panicked and fell off the end, smacking into the back of 10. He looked up to see 7 with a slight smile on her sun bleached face. 9 stumbled forward, trying to regain his coolness, only to fail by tripping over 10's hand. He fell again with a smack against the concrete ground at 7's feet. There was a girlish laugh from 10, who stood up. 9 tried one more time to get up, this time successfully. "7 you're... You're..." 9 could barely speak. "I'm alive," she finished for him, then she hugged him tightly, him hugging back. When they pulled away, 10 made a fake gagging sound; they laughed.

"Where are you at, 7?" That was a voice that made 10 look over 9's shoulder with both curiosity and a scowl quickly coming onto her face. "You leave us for no reason to go ahead into killer darkness and then you don't do what I said and call us whe-" 1 stopped his rambling when he saw 9; 3,4, 5, and 8 stopped shortly behind the stitchpunk leader. "See! He's alive! I told you so!" 7 called as 3 and 4 scampered around quickly the room, their eyes clicking repeatedly. "Who is this?" 1 asked, pointing the hooked cane at 10. "Oh!" 10 said, smiling smugly. "You don't remember me?" She walked closer to him, the cane shrinking back to 1's side. "I was the one you sent away because I was a threat to your position as leader because I also was marked with a 1 on me." 10 held her hands up in front of 1's face, she heard a gasp from 1 that made her smile wider. Her hands fell back to her side, where they swung momentarily before falling still. "I thought... I thought you were dead," 1 said, trying to touch her red-sewed cheek; 10 smacked his hand away with one of her own. "Don't touch me," 10 spat, looking from him to 8, who was starring, dumbfounded, at 10. "I'm a girl!" she shouted in 1's face, then turned on her heels and walked away from the two.

"We need you to come back with us," 7 said to 10, who had found a seat on the first stair of the case. She sat next to her quietly, setting her hands in her own lap. "You could help us, 10. We could help you. Everyone wants to meet you. They want to know that you're the real thing," 7 explained, pulling a hand from her own lap and touching 10's arm. 10 dropped her shoulders and sighed. "I need a few things. From everyone here," 10 replied quietly. 7 looked up and motioned everyone to gather over where they sat. Once all but 3 and 4, who were still cataloging, were in a small loose circle around the two girls, 10 spoke clearly and confidently; an opposite of how she felt.

"I need you all to trust me," 10 stated, looking at every one of them. They all nodded. "I need you all to listen to everything I say,  
no matter what it is. I need you to do it." There was the second fact, which everyone agreed orally too. "I also need to lead," she finished, standing up, looking mainly at 1, who she knew was oging to object. 1 looked at her doubtfully, nervously, but fully, and he did nothing but nod. 10 smiled a little. "Let's get out of here," she said, leading them all out of the factory.


	6. Welcome Home

Then ten stitchpunks tugged on, the wind kicking up dirt and dust in their faces, but they didn't seem to notice. More bodies were discovered, buried within the rubble of the lost world, on their journey. Many were pale white with purple fingers and closed eyelids. All were silent; 9 had gotten bored of holding the bulb staff like he was leader, when he didn't want to be nor wasn't in any of their minds. 10 had now been pinned down to hold all of the responsibilities of being leader, and even if it was a little weird not feeling like the center of attention, he was grateful that she took that more then anything.

The Tenth was no different. She never was the 'leader' type in the first place, so why was she being put in charge now? She was no where near perfect, she was very emotional and made easy attachments to the others very quickly, plus, even though she did have a 1 on her hand, she'd rather give her leadership up to 1, who wanted it; who coaxed himself into thinking he _needed_ it. She started to loose speed in her walking, falling behind in the group. 1 took this as the perfect opportunity to interrogate the female stitchpunk, to make her _talk_. He caught up with her quickly, and when he got to her side, she sighed quietly. "Are you sure we won't get, you know, caught out here?" he asked suspiciously, peering at her. "'Course not," she replied, shrugging, "I did - well, _do_ - this kind of stuff all the time." 1 felt his jaw drop. "All the time?!" he exclaimed, looking at her with shocked eyes. "You could've gotten yourself _killed_!" 10 turned and looked at him with a scowl on her face. "Suddenly me living _matters to you_?" she asked sarcastically, finally picking her feet back up and walking forward about arms-length from him.

But 1 kept progressing on her, ready to fire and hundred thousand questions at a time. She wouldn't answer, or she would with a scoff and a roll of her black eyes. After final questions were answered, after a moment of silence, 1 started back up with the questions. "Are you _sure_ that we're not in any danger?" he asked, finally plucking the last string. 10 stopped in her tracks, snapped around and looked at him. "We are perfectly fine!" she practically shouted, making the other stitchpunks turn and look back. "We are not in any danger whatsoev-" She stopped once she peered over 1's shoulder to a huge pile; a combination of dirt, dust, and machine parts. 5 looked at the two of them. "Why did we st-"

"Shhhhhh," 10 shushed quietly, putting a hand up to silence 5, which did. 10 zoomed her eyes in the see a Seamstress, crawling, looking for them with it's bleak red eyes. "Scratch that, we _are_ in danger," she commented, trying not to smile. She turned back to the others. "5, how much further until we hit the church?" 10 asked, quiet enough for the Seamstress not to hear but loud enough for the other stitchpunks to hear. "About a mile or so," 5 replied, putting his head in one of his hands, thinking hard. "We run. Run fast, run hard, and we don't stop. No one stops for anything. If one of us drops, we leave 'em. This is a life-or-death situation here, stitches, so we might loose one or two of us," she explained, looking at everyone. 10 sighed and pointed at 1. "You gotta loose the cape, dude," she said, looking at him. "No!" the man replied, grasping onto his cape as if he were a small child with a blanket. "I'm not 'loosing' my cape because you said so! This is my cape and I deserve t-" 10 grasped his shoulders tightly in her hands. "Would you be willing to die, 1? Huh? Do you want to die with your crummy cape or go without the piece of cloth I could always get another of and live?" she asked, her fingers clawing into him, her eyes burning holes into his. She pushed him go.

"You're choice," she stated, flustered. "We all run to the church. Like I said, don't stop for anything, or any_one_," she emphasized the last word, just for precautions. Each stitchpunk nodded, even 1, who was still hesitant. 10 held her hands out for the cape, which was given to her after a moment or two, surprising all. "I've made my choice," 1 said with a firm but shaky voice. "Glad you made it in time," 10 replied, dropping the cape on the ground and stepping away from it. With consent, 9 called "Everyone go!" and all stitchpunks were off, running, sprinting, jogging, toward the church - home free.

No one was caught - thanks to 10 and her expert scare tactics - and they made it into the church gaping doorway with nothing more then dust and a few stitchpunks that were in desperate need of a rest. 10 made it in first, and as she looked around, she saw papers shuffling. She closed her eyes and braced herself, but nothing came other then slight pokes and prods. She opened them again to see 3 and 4 circling around her time and time again, which made her chuckle.

"Welcome home, 10," 9 said, requoting her with a small smile as he set his lightbulb staff against a deterorating wall.


End file.
